At the heart of the political systems of both ancient Rome and the United States is a set of unwritten rules, customs, and traditions that guide the behavior of the ruling class. In Rome, this was known as the mos maiorum, or “ancestral custom.” This normative guide emphasized the importance of restraint, compromise, and putting the needs of the state above factional interests. America’s own version of the mos maiorum has shaped the country’s democracy since its founding.
These unwritten but deeply important political norms include the peaceful transfer of power between administrations, the independence of the judiciary, and the idea that the president should not use the office for personal enrichment. While the Roman Republic and modern United States exist in vastly different historical contexts, both have experienced a dangerous erosion of political norms driven by rising polarization, institutional dysfunction, and the corrupting influence of concentrated wealth and power.
In the waning years of the Roman Republic, the Senate found itself increasingly paralyzed by a tactic known as the filibuster. The filibuster, which involved a senator speaking continuously to prevent a measure from coming to a vote, was not enshrined in any law or formal rule. Rather, it emerged as an unintended consequence of the Senate’s tradition of unlimited debate. In the first century BCE, Cato the Younger, a conservative senator and fierce opponent of Julius Caesar, became notorious for his marathon filibusters, on one occasion speaking continuously for an entire day to block a bill he opposed.
Growing polarization between the populist and conservative factions of the Senate fueled the rise of the filibuster in Rome. As wealth inequality soared and traditional Roman values eroded, senators increasingly saw politics as a zero-sum game in which compromise was tantamount to defeat. In this context, the filibuster became a powerful tool for the minority to obstruct the will of the majority and grind the gears of government to a halt.
In the modern US Senate, the filibuster has become a routinely used partisan tool for obstruction. During the Obama administration, Republican senators used the filibuster to an unprecedented degree, blocking dozens of judicial nominations and forcing Democrats to muster 60 votes for virtually every piece of significant legislation. This routine obstructionism violated the traditional norms of the Senate, which had long operated on the assumption that the filibuster would be used sparingly.
The erosion of these norms in both Rome and America can be traced to a number of structural factors. First and foremost is the rise of extreme partisanship and polarization. As each of the two major parties has become more ideologically homogenous and geographically siloed, compromise has become increasingly difficult. Politicians are incentivized to appeal to their bases rather than reach across the aisle, seeing members of the other party not just as opponents but as true enemies. This toxic atmosphere of hyper-partisanship has made it easier for politicians to justify violating traditional norms in pursuit of one-sided gain.
The corrupting influence of money in American politics compounds the problem of hyper-partisanship. The Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision in 2010 struck down key campaign finance restrictions, allowing corporations and wealthy individuals to spend unlimited sums on elections. The decision held that such spending was a form of free speech protected by the First Amendment and that corporations, like individuals, had the right to political expression. This influx of cash has exacerbated polarization and made elected officials more beholden to narrow special interests. At the same time, the practice of partisan gerrymandering has allowed politicians to choose their voters rather than the other way around, reducing the accountability of representatives to their constituents. In the 2012 elections, for example, Democratic House candidates won 1.4 million more votes nationally, but Republicans won 33 more seats, thanks in large part to strategically drawn districts.
The result is a political system that is increasingly unresponsive to the needs and desires of ordinary citizens. Public trust in government has plummeted as more and more Americans feel that the system is rigged against them. This erosion of faith in the democratic process is deeply dangerous, as it creates fertile ground for demagogues and would-be authoritarians who promise to break the gridlock by any means necessary. We saw this dynamic play out with the rise of Donald Trump, who ran on a platform of smashing the political establishment and “draining the swamp.” While Trump’s attempt to overthrow the 2020 election ultimately failed, his baseless claims of voter fraud and attempts to pressure state officials to change vote totals represented an unprecedented assault on the norm of peaceful transfer of power.
The American norm of judicial independence has likewise been strained by an increasingly politicized confirmation process and attacks on the legitimacy of court decisions. The refusal of Senate Republicans to hold hearings on Merrick Garland’s Supreme Court nomination in 2016, followed by the rushed confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett just days before the 2020 election, was a stark violation of traditional norms. Moreover, Trump’s repeated attacks on judges who ruled against his administration, and his characterization of courts as biased and politically motivated, undermined public faith in the sanctity of the judiciary.
These parallels suggest that the erosion of norms is not unique to any one society or historical period, but rather a recurring challenge with which all democracies must contend. In Rome, the failure to address this challenge ultimately led to the collapse of the Republic and the rise of imperial dictatorship under Caesar and his successors. The United States, while not yet in such dire straits, faces a similar moment of reckoning.
To avoid Rome’s fate, we must find ways to adapt our democracy to meet the challenges of the 21st century while preserving its fundamental values and norms. These challenges are in many ways distinct from those faced by Rome. The rise of social media, for instance, has created new avenues for the spread of disinformation and the manipulation of public opinion. The globalization of finance has made it easier for wealthy individuals and corporations to game the system and avoid accountability. Climate change poses an existential threat that requires unprecedented levels of international cooperation.
Meeting these challenges will require reforms to strengthen institutional guardrails, such as implementing stricter ethics rules, enhancing transparency in campaign finance, and ensuring fair and competitive elections through measures like independent redistricting commissions. It will also require modernizing our democratic institutions to be more responsive and resilient, whether through innovations like ranked choice voting or a more representative Senate.
However, formal rules and laws can only do so much to sustain democratic norms—equally important is the cultivation of a democratic culture that values compromise, respects differences of opinion, and puts country over party. This is no easy feat in an age of intense polarization and partisan tribalism, but it is essential if American democracy is to endure.
Ultimately, the lesson of Rome is that no republic, however great, is immune to the forces of decay brought about by rising economic inequality, political corruption, and the erosion of civic virtue. The American experiment in self-government has already lasted far longer than many of its skeptics ever thought possible. Whether it continues to defy the odds will depend on our ability to reckon honestly with the challenges we face and summon the political will to address them.
While the specifics may differ, the story of democratic erosion in Rome and America is fundamentally a story of choices—choices made by leaders, by institutions, and by ordinary citizens. Just as the Roman Republic was not foredoomed to fall, neither is American democracy guaranteed to survive. As John Adams wrote, “Remember Democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes exhausts and murders itself. There never was a Democracy Yet, that did not commit suicide.” Adams’s words serve as a stark warning that the survival of democracy depends on the active cultivation of democratic norms and values. It is not enough to simply expect democracy’s continued existence—it must be consistently reaffirmed and upheld, even (and perhaps especially) in the face of political expediency or partisan temptation.
While external threats to democracy often capture the headlines, it is the slow rot from within—politicians prioritizing partisan gain over the integrity of government, the corrosive influence of money in politics, the erosion of public trust—that ultimately proves most dangerous. In the twilight of democracy, we can choose to follow the unwritten rules that light the way—or we can abandon them and stumble through the dark. The choice is ours, and the stakes could not be higher.